Birth of an Assassin
by Beautiful Shiny People
Summary: How Malik came to become part of the Assassin Order. Malik-centric; AltMal in later chapters, rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**EDIT: I put breaks in; it should be easier to read. **

I bite the inside of my cheek as the large man demands that I rub harder; the smell of lavender invades my nostrils, and I can't help but feel my gut begin to lurch. Blinking back my tears, I focus on my hands as they move down thick flesh slickened by oil.

People sweat around me, their eyes running down every plane of my body as I stand to retrieve a basin of cool water; I feel hands grab and prod, and I swallow down my disgusted cries, remembering my teaching.

Sitting beside the fat man again, he lazily opens his eyes, smiling a toothless grin at me, his pudgy fingers curling under my chin in order to lift it. "You're far too skinny...has your master been feeding you enough, boy?" My hands run up his beefy leg, smoothing out any knots in the muscle.

"My master is very kind to me sir." I feel fingers move from my chin to rest on my shoulder; soft pads rub against the still tender brand, causing me to hiss softly. The fat man grins again and lets out a few wheezing chuckles before resting his hand on the marble seat beside his sweating self.

* * *

I fist at the silk blanket resting over my bare knees; my left eye is swollen, and a few sniffles leave my lips as one of the other tellak boys wipes away dried blood. The cut is shallow, but it burns over the dark bruise that's beginning to form. "Malik..." I sniff again, lifting my eyes to the slightly older boy. His green gaze is fixed on the rag stained with my blood.

"Yes?"

The tellak stands gracefully, folding the rag into a neat square. For a moment, he is silent, watching as I bandage the wound on my torso. He seems to be searching for words, but with a small smile, he turns to flee from the room. "Rest for now. Do not sleep tonight."

My eyes pop open as a leather covered hand clamps over my mouth. I begin to thrash, but an annoyed hushing noise causes me to go limp in my attacker's arms. The room is dark, and the body behind me smells coppery. I feel warm liquid smear over my cheek from the hand holding my mouth, and the familiar scent causes me to whimper loudly.

"Silence, boy..." My heart is beating wildly in my head, and the heavily accented Greek growled in my ear causes me to thrash again.

"Malik, calm yourself." A cool hand touches my forehead, moving away the dark curls sticking to the skin. I recognize the voice to be of the tellak from earlier, and I make a soft noise as I'm pulled from my bed. The person holding me shifts, taking his bloody hand from my mouth. The tellak moves in front of me, cupping my face almost motherly. I can make out the shape of his oval face in the dark as he leans close. "Please do exactly as I say. No questions." At my hesitant nod, he releases my face and stands straighter.

"Azim...safety and peace brother." My eyebrows furrow, but a soft chuckle pulls me from my confusion.

"Safety and peace, Hassan." The person, Azim, moves quickly from behind me; his footsteps are silent against the thick stone floor. "...everything seems to be fine."

The tellak, Hassan grabs my wrist, pulling me toward the doorway where the intruder has disappeared from the room. We move quickly down the large hallway; I stumble before receiving a harsh tug. "Keep up."

The garden air smells sweet, and is cold as it licks my face. Hassan pulls me close, and finally I see Azim scaling the garden wall. My eyes widen at the almost effortless way he climbs the stone; with a gasp, Hassan is running toward the wall.

We become air-born, flying over the stone until the harsh impact of the ground shocks me out of my surprised awe.

Azim straightens and turns toward us; under the light of the moon, I can make out his...strange robes. The man who moves like a shadow is wearing all white. A white hood covers his head, and around his waist is a dark belt holding...knives. He pulls back his hood, and I can see that he is an older man, most likely in his early thirties. "Are you alright?"

Hassan lets go of my arm, allowing the appendage to flop to my side. The tellak and the intruder begin to walk, causing me to hop into step behind them. Azim crosses his arms as he walks and turns to look at me from the corner of his eye. "Why are you taking the boy?" He has switched from Greek to Arabic, the language I was taught before being sold.

Hassan clasps his hands behind his back, walking quickly through the rich district of Constantinople. Azim awaits his answer patiently, while my own head buzzes with questions that bubble out of my mouth. The tellak turns to me, a small frown resting on his pretty lips; one brow is cocked downward, almost in a scolding manner. He speaks slowly, addressing Azim but still keeping eye contact with me, even as he walks. "Besides myself, he was closest with the 'master'. I did not want him to be executed for something he didn't do."

By Azim, we're led to a small, inconspicuous looking building. It's squat, and seems to hold the appearance of a cartographer's work place. I open my mouth to ask where we are, but as the white hooded male disappears into a scant looking courtyard, and appears above on the roof, I shut my jaw with a click.

Hassan follows, gesturing for me to do the same, and climbs up a skinny ladder propped against the wall. I gasp a bit when my eyes are met with the dark cityscape; my head is swimming lightly until I'm pulled from my thoughts by Hassan pulling on my wrist.

Azim drops into the building through an open lattice, his impact making the softest noise possible. Hassan goes afterward, whispering to me from the dark room below that I should follow.

I'm caught in my descent before I'm placed with care onto the ground; the soft glow of lanterns being lit meet my light-starved eyes, causing me to blink as the two other men move through-out the small room.

A fountain dribbles behind me; green plants are placed in the space, giving off a light earthy smell, causing my nerves and confusion to die down bit by bit. A small, crippled looking man walks into the room, eyes bleary but not shocked at the company that had suddenly dropped into his shop.

He strokes his white tuft of a beard, and his vision clears up when Azim greets him in a formal tone. The white dressed male produces something red from his intricate belt, and when I register what it _is_, I gasp lightly.

A pure white feather is stained with dark, ruby coloured blood. The old man nods once, not disturbed by the present. "Excellent job, brother." His eyes turn to Hassan, taking in the tellak's presence, and finally his gaze lands on me.

"…Azim, Hassan…why do you have a child with you?" The old man's voice is forceful, and I cringe at the tone, the bruise around my eye throbbing painfully. Azim opens his mouth to answer, glaring lightly at the tellak standing beside him.

Hassan smiles endearingly at the old man, tilting his head to one side while holding his hands upwards. "Ajax, please understand-"

Ajax thrusts a finger at the young man, his once tired eyes now fully focused. "No! I will not have you endangering the brotherhood because _you_ feel that this _child_ needs saving!"

The tellak closes his mouth and frowns angrily. His hands clench at his tunic bottom, and his plush lips thin to a line. Azim clears his throat, sighing lightly at the old man's outburst.

I feel my eyes well up with tears of confusion; the tips of my ears burn as I finally voice the irritation that was beginning to claw up my throat. I turn my attention to the intruder, standing swiftly from the ground, fists shaking at my sides. "What is going on! I _demand_ to know!" When my angry pleas are met with silence, I turn to Hassan. "You talk of 'execution' and the 'brotherhood'…I want to know! Why did you save me?"

The old man finally cracks a smile. "So the mute raven wishes to have answers." He directs a glare at the silent Hassan and gestures toward the pile of plush pillows. "Come, child, I will give you the information you seek."

* * *

Ajax moves swiftly to another room resting behind a long, wooden counter. It smells of dried ink and dust, and he tells me to sit so he can fetch me something to eat. I curl my legs beneath me, resting my hands on my lap, watching the old man flit about the room.

He hands me a loaf of hard bread and a glass of pungent wine, telling me to eat. Sharp fingers prod at the dark bruise around my eye causing me to choke on the bite I was focused on swallowing. Ajax lets a sigh whistle through his remaining teeth, standing from the squat and moving toward another fountain.

"Here." He hands me a soaked cloth, telling me to press it to my eye. I do so, watching as he sits with a soft groan. Ajax turns his face to me, a small frown working on his mouth as he strokes his white beard again. I notice with a small squeak, that his ring finger is missing.

The old man laughs, holding his hand up so I can see the small stub. I hold his wrinkled appendages in my own small hands, childish fascination written all over my face. "What…happened?" Ajax takes his hand away from mine, placing it in his lap, sighing loudly.

"You asked for answers, and I told you I would give them." He turns his gaze to the covered doorway, "The idiot knows that civilians are not supposed to know of the brotherhood."

Ajax sighs again, glancing up to my face. "The brotherhood is the order of Assassins sworn to protect innocents from corrupt leaders, and injustice." The old man picks at the hard bread, dipping them in his own wine to soften it enough to eat. "Azim was ordered by the Master of Masyaf, Al Mualim to kill your master, Acheron."

"…What…did he do?" Ajax hums lightly, slipping the wine-soaked bread through his lips. I growl lightly, my hands tightening in my lap. "I think I deserve to know!"

The old man swiftly smacks my head, causing me to blink in surprise. He holds a blank expression, slipping another chunk of bread into his mouth. "You must learn to still your tongue." While I pout and rub at the tender spot he had left, Ajax finishes his meal. "Acheron was ordered to die because he was heading a sexual slavery route."

He stands and wipes his wrinkled hands on his dark robes. "Come, you must be tired."

When I wake, I can hear low mumbled arguments in the next room. Sliding out from under the blankets Ajax had thrown to me, I crouch beside the covered doorway, straining my ears to listen.

"You're being irresponsible! He's not even of assassin blood! How can you even think-"

"He's intelligent, and with the proper training-"

"Hassan, you know that even a child can pose a threat to the brotherhood, and anyway…how will you convince Al Mualim?"

My eyebrows furrow when the squabbling dies down, causing me to lean more forward to try and hear if they were merely conversing in lower tones. The cloth covering the doorway is pushed away, and Azim stands staring me down with a small frown. I gulp and sheepishly gnaw at my bottom lip; he sighs, looking tiredly over at the other two men.

Hassan stands while Ajax looks as if he's eaten a sour plum. The tellak has a soft smile on his face while he holds his hands out for me, palms up. He wraps me in a hug, causing me to tense at the unfamiliar contact. The young man rests a cheek on the top of my head, and he smells slightly like wine. "He will prove to be most fruitful to the brotherhood, I can promise you that, Ajax."

The old man scoffs, turning his gaze onto me, a small boy of six. "We'll see."

_**Chapter one: End**_

* * *

_A tellak was a young man who gave massages to men in the Hammam; they were also known to preform sexual acts. _

_Constantinople was the capital of the Byzantine Empire; they primarily spoke Greek until the Turks invaded in 1204. _

_Right, so this was SUPPOSED to be a one-shot, but it morphed into something else entirely. I have this also posed on dA. _

_**Hassan, Azim, and Ajax are my OC's, but obviously I DON'T OWN ASSASSIN'S CREED. **_

_Please leave a review. _


	2. Chapter 2

"Quit fidgeting." A hand slaps my own, causing my glare to shoot up to Hassan.

The young man frowns, kicking his horse forward, dust clouding up around the horse's hooves. Azim sighs beside me before doing the same to catch up to the irritable Hassan.

I stick my tongue out at both of their backs, grumbling lightly to myself as I feel the hot sun beat down on top of my head. The white mare I'm riding wickers silently, moving to compensate for my sluggish pace; I glare down at my bandage covered hands, wincing at the still throbbing sores beneath. _Hassan was rather brutal yesterday…_

I can still feel the sharp bite of metal against my skin, and the young man's harsh words at my failure. _"When I was your age, I could wield a blade better than my masters! Stop fooling around and hold your sword the correct way!"_

Once more, I glare at Hassan's back, warily eyeing the sword hanging from his saddle. It was a surprise that this…very effeminate young man was a self-proclaimed master of swords; my hands tighten, hot pain shooting up my wrists. I hiss softly in pain, loosening the appendages to lay on the top of my legs.

I notice that Azim has turned around and is riding toward me; a small frown twitches at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes shoot down to my hands. "Hassan," Azim barks, dark eyes narrowing against the lowering sun. The young man turns his horse, the animal pawing at the ground in agitation. "We'll stop here for tonight. Malik's hands need to be re-bandaged."

* * *

Hassan sits beside me, holding my cut hands gently in his own. His green eyes are pointed downwards as he wraps bandages over the sticky, clear salve covering the puckered wounds.

Azim is preparing a quick meal, and I can feel his dark gaze glancing our way every so often. I shift on the ground, watching Hassan repack the medicinal supplies with a sigh. The young man pauses before looking up at me; he's chewing the corner of his mouth, and his brow is furrowed. Glancing over at the older man, Hassan turns back to me. "Malik," He scratches the side of his nose before humming softly in irritation. "I don't normally apologize…in fact, I dislike it, but…I'm sorry for being so harsh with you lately." I nod as Hassan stands, quickly excusing himself to rush towards the river we have set up camp next to.

Azim swiftly occupies Hassan's place, handing me a small bowl of dried lamb. He chuckles lowly, gaze quickly finding the young man swimming. "He's horrible with apologizing."

I chew thoughtfully, staring into the fire. "Is he always so…moody?"

Azim laughs, and it's the first time I've seen him smile openly during our trip. I notice the look of fondness creep across his face; he stares into his bowl, poking at the contents inside. "He's worried, I suppose."

"Why?"

The older man mulls the answer over in his head, one hand coming up to remove his white hood; fingers run through his dark hair. "He hasn't been to Masyaf in over three years, so he's worried how Al Mualim will react to him asking that you be trained as one of us."

I blink, sudden dread dropping into my gut. "W-will…Al Mualim turn me away?" My panic spreads over my face, and I feel tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes. Azim moves to comfort me, wrapping an arm around my skinny shoulders, and using a large finger to wipe away fat tears that dribble down my cheeks.

"Don't cry, little one." A small smile quirks the edges of Azim's mouth. I hiccup softly and rub away any moisture dripping from my eyes. The older man pats my head, reminding me of a father I once saw in the market place. "It will be alright. You see…Hassan is very persuasive."

* * *

We near looming mountains, and dense forests; my skin prickles when the cool mountain air slides over me like a blanket. I rub my hand over the rough traveling tunic to try and get warmth back into my body.

Hassan and Azim converse beside me, laughing softly amongst themselves. The young man's mood has improved greatly ever since Azim goaded him into apologizing; he's still brutal with training, the shallow cut on my leg throbs lightly in remembrance.

"Are we almost there?" I sigh, rocking back and forth on my horse's saddle.

Hassan snorts, turning to poke me on the forehead. "Almost, now stop asking that." The young man returns to his conversation, ignoring my small disgruntled 'humph'.

A few moments pass before a large grin curls my mouth. I poke Hassan's side, causing him to jump before swinging back to look at me. "Are we almost there?" Hassan growls lowly, a dark glare covering his pretty face.

"If you keep that up, only Allah will help you, Malik." Azim's voice is coated with amusement, and this earns a small pout from Hassan.

The young man crosses his arms in front of his chest, green eyes flickering over to Azim. The older man places a hand on Hassan's thigh, and it seems far too intimate for me to be watching.

I gulp, and spur my horse to move farther. "I'll go ahead!" I call over my shoulder, the thudding of hooves blocking out any answer I may have gotten.

I slow the mare to a trot, holding the reins loosely while taking in my surroundings. Rocky mountain faces stained white from sun, and dotted by trees met my wide gaze. My eyes trailed down the steep drop off the path to the river below. A long, happy sigh leaves my lips as I watch the clear water. I was born by the Bosporus, and felt more at home near a river, no matter how scant.

A loud shriek over head pulls me out of my daydreaming; I look up, noticing a dark eagle flying lowly. It lands on the branches of a nearby tree, its golden eyes locking with my dark gaze. The predatory bird cocks its head to the side, beak clicking at me while its feathers ruffled.

I blink, urging the mare closer to the tree. The eagle shifts on the branch, gaze unwavering as I slide off of the saddle; my mouth is open in slight wonderment while the bird hops to a lower branch. I hesitantly reach a hand out, the tips of my fingers barely brushing the dark feathers before the sounds of the others approaching startles the eagle into flight.

Azim lifts his face upwards to watch the bird flutter away, a look of calm crossing his face. Hassan's cheeks are flushed, and I avoid his eyes while I jump back on my horse. I don't want to know…

Guards dressed similarly to Azim greet us at the large wooden gate. They're very formal while they talk to the two men, their eyes glancing toward me suspiciously. Hassan fixes them with a small smile, softly telling them that I'm of no threat. One grunts while taking the horses' reins while the other motions for us to enter.

The city is large, dotting the jutting cliffs are modest homes; people converse in tight groups, buying things in the many stalls lining the streets. We push through the crowd, Azim and Hassan nodding to people they know and other men donned like soldiers.

The young man lets a breath hiss through his teeth, green eyes falling on the large, imposing fortress seemingly made from the mountain. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Al Mualim is an intimidating man. A calculating, ink black eye stares down his crooked nose, a frown dipping the corner of his mouth while I struggle with meeting his gaze.

His mismatched eyes (one a misty colour, covered by a long jagged scar) flicker up to the two other men standing silently behind me. "…you claim that this child is intelligent." His voice is commanding, the Arabic rolling off his tongue in a way that _makes_ you listen.

Azim remains silent, knowing that his job of murdering my former master is done; Hassan does not seem off put by Al Mualim's tone. "Why would I bring you a stupid child, master?" The young man-assassin-places a long fingered hand on top of my head. "Please…allow him to become my little brother, and let me teach him. I'm sure Kadar would keep out of trouble if he had someone near his own age to look after him."

The older man hums, a hand coming up to cradle his chin. He turns in a flutter of dark robes, waving a hand dismissively toward Hassan. "Fine, he will begin his training tomorrow. Azim, a word."

Hassan pushes me out of the large room, grinning brightly at his victory, but casting a worried glance toward Azim. His hands on my shoulders tighten lightly. "You must meet Kadar right away; he's…trouble, but I'm sure he'll warm up to you soon."

I hear the clanging of metal, and the cheering of boys as we near the open doorway; my attention is pulled from my new older brother as my gaze falls on the spectacle before me.

Two boys, one that looks to be my age, and the other who is obviously older, face each other in a fighting ring. They hold long swords, and are posed to attack; the older boy charges, swinging his blade in a sloppy arch, a loud cry falling from his lips.

The younger boy dodges expertly, moving as quickly as a snake, striking out with his own blade, causing the older boy to gasp in pain.

The match is over quickly, and the group of boys begin to congratulate the younger on such a fine job. He shrugs off their compliments, looking bored until his eyes lock with mine. Golden eyes regard me like an eagle watching a mouse; he doesn't blink, but a small look of confusion furrows his light coloured eyebrows.

Hassan prods me in the side, huffing lightly when I struggle to brake my staring match. He looks over to the fighting ring, hands falling to rest on his hips as he watches another match begin. "Pay no attention to him Malik, he's merely a show off."

* * *

Kadar is…loud, and small; when he sees his older brother, he breaks away from the women who are bathing him to give Hassan an excited, wet hug. His blue eyes are wide as he babbles on, asking breathless questions; Hassan shoos him back to the scolding women, telling the boy to quiet down.

One of the women wrap a cloth around the boy's round shoulders, but it seems at that moment he notices me, and this causes another on slot of questions. The older man sighs, but smiles at his brother's excited babble. A long fingered hand rests on my back to push me toward the young boy. "This is Malik, he is our new brother."

Kadar takes my hand in his own slightly chubby one, staring up at me with large, blue eyes. He's only a head shorter than I am, and I notice that one of his front teeth are missing when he grins. Turning toward his biological older brother, Kadar bounces on the balls of his feet. "Can I show him around, brother?"

Hassan ignores his little brother for a moment, thanking the women for dealing with his unruly brother while he was away; Kadar pouts, dragging me by the hand, following the older male into the squat house. "Yes, I suppose." Hassan sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, something I noticed over the year of our travel he did whenever he was tired.

Kadar whoops loudly, running into another room to get dressed. I stand awkwardly, feeling the grit of the road on my skin; the luxury of bathing regularly was something I missed.

The young boy bounds back into the room, grabbing me by the wrist with surprising force, waving over his shoulder to his older brother.

Kadar slows to a brisk walk with me falling in step beside him. His hold on my wrists moves to a loose clasp on my slightly larger hand; the boy is friendly toward people as they pass by. Mothers smile fondly at the sweet little boy, their eyes flickering toward me until I offer them a saccharine smile; they coo and give us small candies which we greedily devour.

I suck the honey from my fingertips, moving beside Kadar as he tells me of how he and his friend, Yushua, began their training. "I want to be as great as Altair!" I raise an eyebrow at the name.

"Who?"

Kadar's eyes swivel toward me in surprise, his mouth opening in shock. He stops and exclaims, "You don't know who _Altair_ is?" He throws his hands up in the air and points toward the fortress. "T-then you _must_ meet him!" The excitable boy grabs my wrist again, and begins to tug me up the rocky path.

We come to the fighting grounds, the sounds of weaponry clanging through the air. Kadar's blue eyes scan the crowd of people watching two older men training gracefully, until a wide grin lights up his entire visage. "Altair!" The boy lifts an arm, tugging me forward, almost causing me to trip.

The boy from earlier has turned at the name, a small frown resting comfortably on his face. He's sitting on one of the benches lining the fighting ring, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. His eyes shoot up to meet mine, causing me to gulp but return the scrutinizing glare tenfold.

Kadar lets go of my wrist to sit down beside the slightly older boy, his expression that of hero-worship. I remain standing, the feeling of smouldering resentment already weighing heavily in my gut. Kadar turns the attention of the boy onto himself, giving the somber looking male a large smile; he gestures toward me, tone excited and awed. "This is my new older brother, Malik!" He turns his large blue eyes to me, pulling at my limp hand. "T-this is Altair!"

* * *

_Chapter two, oh yeah! Lawd, the beginning was hard to write, but I persevered! Azim gets more screen time, Hassan is a little bitch, Kadar and Altair are introduced; a productive day if I do say so myself. _

_Soo, the distance from Istanbul (Constantinople in this case) to Masyaf is IMENSE, so it took them almost a year to make it, meaning Malik is now seven years old, Kadar is five, and Altair is seven as well. (Aw) Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

My feet thud against the ground, hand clenched tightly around a white and red flag. Breathless pants leave my mouth as my eyes search the twisting pathways of the village; I gulp, gnawing at the bottom of my lip as I try to find another novice who sports the mark of my team.

I hear soft footfalls behind me, and I curse lowly under my breath, shooting off in an obscure direction. My legs stretch widely, covering as much ground as I can as the scenery passes by in a blur. I can feel the person's breath on my neck, and I growl, quickly turning into a narrow ally way.

A soft curse falls from my pursuer's mouth, and I grin triumphantly as I scramble up one of the building's walls. Wasting no time, I quickly catapult myself across the roof of the building, eyes trained forward so I don't have to see the height.

My heart is thudding loudly in my chest as I run toward the fortress; my hand hurts from gripping the flag so tightly, but a small grin plays across my mouth as I imagine the sweet taste of victory.

Jumping across a small gap between buildings, a cry of surprise leaves me when Altair leaps out of a garden hut. A large, feline grin curls his lips as his arms wrap around me, dragging me to the ground. I growl and hiss as I struggle to get out of his hold, trying in vein not to release my grip on the flag.

He grunts as one of my punches lands before pinning my arms above my head; Altair huffs once, glaring down at me with amused golden eyes. He plucks the flag from my aching hand, giving me a cheeky grin before releasing me. I hop up from the ground, fully prepared to tackle him, but soon the novice is quickly running from me. "Thanks Malik!" He calls over his shoulder, waving the flag in victory.

I stare after him, feeling my cheeks colour with anger. My fists clench and unclench by my sides until a loud wailing curse leaves my mouth.

* * *

I moodily poke at the fattoush sitting in front of me; my glare earns me a concerned look from Kadar, his cheeks bulging slightly with his own food. He swallows loudly and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "Um…brother?"

My eyes flicker up at the sound of his meek voice; a soft breath leaves my mouth and I sit up straighter, flashing a quick smile. "Yes?"

Kadar returns his gaze to his food, pushing the contents around in the lemon juice. "Is everything…alright? You seem angry."

I push my plate back and rub at my eyes with a fist. I stand swiftly, running a hand through my shortly cropped hair. "I'm not angry, I'm annoyed." Huffing lightly, I stride over to the open door. I look back at my younger brother, hand posed on the wooden entry way. "I'll be back soon, tell Hassan not to worry." I pause, regarding Kadar warily. "And please don't follow me."

* * *

I trail a hand over the pitted stone houses, the anger from earlier melting into embarrassment and annoyance. Kicking a small rock, I sit down on one of the stone benches lining the street. Leaning my head back against a building, my eyes slide closed, the dimming sunlight of evening highlighting the insides of my eyelids orange and red. A soft hum leaves my mouth, and I breathe in the scent of village life.

The guarded town has grown in the past four years of my living here; more and more people file through the gates, their stomachs swollen with hunger and their wounded festering with infection. Their homes were ravaged by the Crusaders, the brutes seemingly having no conscience while they went about slaying everything those people had. _"The brotherhood is the order of Assassins sworn to protect innocents from corrupt leaders, and injustice." _Sighing, I stand and run a hand through my hair, feeling that now wasn't the for such thoughts.

I began the trek back to my home, looking up to the pink and purple sky for a moment until my eyes stop on the source of my bad feelings.

Altair looks down from his perch on one of the taller buildings, his legs dangling from the edge. On his shoulder rests an eaglet who is chewing at a small scrap of meat the other boy is holding toward its beak. He lifts a hand in greeting, motioning for me to come up next to him.

With a confused look, I scurry up the side of the building; huffing slightly, I squeeze my eyes closed so not to look down. I feel a hand clasp around one of my shaking hands, tugging me up on the roof only to become a tangled mess of limbs with my rival.

The eaglet has hopped from the other boy's shoulder to sit on the roof, its large yellow eyes regarding us carefully while it dips its beak into the small leather bag most-likely containing food.

I push myself up, a light blush on my face while I look down at a laughing Altair. I cuff him on the side of his head, growling at the stupid grin he is wearing. "What did you want?" I spit, sitting with my back facing the open street.

Altair sits up, lazily crossing his legs. He shrugs a shoulder, holding out his finger for the small bird to hop onto. "I don't know…you looked like you could use some company."

The embarrassment and annoyance at him besting me during our training slowly evapourates. I look at the eaglet resting on Altair's shoulder and reach out to stroke my fingers down its slightly puffy back. The boy watches my hand as if it's a snake ready to strike; the tips of my ears turn pink from the stare until I draw my hand away, fisting it in my lap. "Is, um, is that your pet?"

Altair looks over at the eaglet, both pairs of gold flickering to me before the boy shrugs a shoulder. "There's a nest beside my window and the mother pushed this one out," His expression flashes quickly to sadness, but he sobers up immediately. "So…I decided to take care of it."

"Have you thought of a name?"

Altair blinks, an eyebrow raising while he looks up at the sky. "No." He hums, leaning back on his hands. I pluck the bird from his shoulder, startling it from its slumber; the eaglet nips the tip of my finger, causing a soft hiss to leave my mouth.

"How about Badar?"

The boy looks at me, a small mocking smile on his mouth. "'Full moon'?" He asks, voice laced with teasing.

I huff, cradling the bird close to my chest, eyes narrowed in a glare. "Sorry, that's the best I could come up with." _Bastard_.

Altair rolls his eyes, snorting softly. "I think I'll come up with a _better_ name."

"Go drown."

* * *

"Soon you will be going through your first trial to becoming a full-fledged assassin." Azim paces down the row of boys, hands resting at his sides. "You will be giving a small sacrifice to the Brotherhood, and after that, you will begin your training with the hidden blade."

Excited murmurs bubble down the row; we all know that the hidden blade is an assassin's trademark weapon. With a sharp glare from Azim, the other boys silence their babble; the assassin turns on his heel, continuing to tell us about our trials.

I tune him out, looking down to the ground, pitted by numerous boot prints. "Malik." I don't realize that a shadow has fallen over me until I hear my name from above.

Azim has a slightly annoyed expression on his face; I hear the others snickering lightly, and I scowl at them before turning my attention up to my teacher. "Pay attention." He cuffs me lightly on the side of the head, and turns, telling us that our training for today has ended.

I glower as I rub at the slightly sore spot on my head. "Even Azim's favourite student gets yelled at." I turn to my snickering rival, a deep scowl dragging down my mouth.

"Like you're one to talk, Altair." I growl, hand fisting at my side.

The boy snorts, eyes narrowing to slits. "Shut it, A-Sayf."

I rest a hand on my hip, snorting softly. People have turned at our bickering; the older assassins seem annoyed, while the younger novices are whispering to one another, waiting for a physical fight. "_Make me_."

Altair lunges, fingers outstretched like talons. His hands wrap around my throat, his weight causing us to fall to the ground. My head smacks off of the hard dirt, a soft grunt coming from my lips.

I push him off, scrambling to my feet only to be barreled over again. "B-bastard!" Altair cocks back a fist, the knuckles digging into my cheek. He's sitting on my legs, and one hand is wrapped tightly around my neck; I'm trying to shake him off, but because of my smaller stature compared to the other boy, my body remains planted firmly on the ground.

The other assassins have crowded around us, some pointing and laughing while others shake their heads.

"G-get off…!" I wheeze, shooting a watering glare up at Altair, who's mouth has thinned to a line. My hand gropes the ground, looking for something to defend myself with; my fingers curl around a sharp rock, the edges cutting lightly into my skin with the force of my grip.

Swinging my arm into a high arch, the rock connects with a dull thunk; Altair reels back, crimson splattering from the deep cut the rock has given him.

He hisses, turning his face back to me, I notice that the rock has split his lip down one side; blood drips down his chin, causing me to smirk at my accuracy. I hope that hurt.

As Altair swings his fist back, he's pulled away from me by Azim. The assassin is livid, his dark eyes flitting between the two of us; he lets a breath hiss from between his clenched teeth, roughly shaking Altair by the collar. "_You_," He looks pointedly at Altair, "The master wishes to speak to you." The colour drains from the boy's face.

I scramble up from the ground, gently touching my neck where I'm sure there will be bruises later. I stick my tongue out at Altair, earning a heated glare from the boy, until Azim turns his wrath on me.

He grabs me by the wrist, tugging me away from the training field. Turning to me, the older man lets out a long sigh. "Malik, what have I told you about patronizing him?" Azim's eyebrows furrow, and he holds the bridge of his nose. I remain silent, looking down at my boots; a small frown covers my mouth. "With the fighting you two do _constantly, _I would be crazy for _either_ of you two to take your first trial."

I snap my gaze up to the man, my eyes wide and my mouth open in shock. "A-Azim, no!"

Azim frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Why should I do that? You two will just try and kill each other more than you do now."

I huff and look up at my teacher. "If…if I promise that we won't fight…and I get Altair to promise…will you _please_ let us take our trials?" I clasp my hands in front of me, my eyes pleading.

Azim paused, sighing lightly as his resolve faltered. He places a hand on my head, lightly touching the lump that Altair had left earlier with the pad of his thumb. "Fine…but I'm going to talk to your brother about your behaviour." I mentally snort, but give Azim a large smile.

* * *

_Alright. Chapter three! -Cheers- So more AltMal interaction, less Kadar (aw sad) and Azim reappears. _

_Yeah, time jumps _will_ be happening. This chapter takes place four years after Malik came to Masyaf, so he's eleven, as is Altair, and Kadar is eight. _

_Next chapter will be when they're fourteen. (hormones -sings-)_


	4. Chapter 4

"Leave no opening for your enemy!" A blade flicks out toward my hip, but I dodge, dancing around my opponent. "Watch your footing!" I glance down toward the other novice's feet, a smirk flashing across my mouth before I kick out a leg, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thump.

Azim calls the next two people to begin another match; he claps me on the back before turning back to the fighting ring.

I catch my breath, swiping a hand over my forehead to wipe away any sweat. I stretch my arms over my head, sighing lightly as my shoulders pop.

"Brother!" I turn, smiling brightly as Kadar comes running into the training area. My eyes flicker up to the person closely following suit, my mouth dropping to a frown. Kadar tugs on my hand, pulling me from my glaring match with Altair.

"Yes, Kadar?" I lean down to his level, seeing as I'm still a head taller than the younger novice.

From behind his back, my younger brother pulls a leather-bound journal; I slowly take the book from his hands, my eyes wide and expression awed. I open the cover, running my fingers down the soft yellow pages.

Kadar looks up at his hero, a large excited grin almost splitting his face in half; Altair looks amused, watching as I smile largely. "Do you…do you like it brother?" Kadar is bouncing on the balls of his feet, wringing his hands in anticipation for my answer.

I tightly hug my brother, laughing lightly in delight. Looking up at Altair, I offer him a small smile, forgetting my rivalry with him for a moment; he blinks, and flushes lightly, turning his gaze from me and itches the side of his nose.

Breaking from my hug, Kadar grabs hold of Altair's hand, tugging him so the much taller male is level with him. "Altair helped me pay for it; Happy birthday, Malik!"

Altair clears his throat, crossing his arms. He chews lightly at the corner of his mouth where the scar rests; I hold the journal close to my chest, the tips of my ears heating as an awkward air presses down on us. "Um, happy birthday, Malik…"

Kadar seems not to notice our discomfort, grabbing both of our hands and leading us away from the training area. Altair and I glance toward each other, expressions of confusion covering our faces. "No training today, brother; you're going to enjoy your birthday, alright?"

* * *

"How I get in these situations with you-" We scramble up a building, breath coming out in short pants. Kadar clings to my back, his hands tightly holding the stolen pomegranates. "I WILL NEVER KNOW!"

Altair laughs beside me, leaping gracefully over the rooftops of the squat buildings. I can hear the quick footfalls of the guards behind us, and I gulp down my fear, following the other novice.

Kadar giggles lightly, his arms tightening around my neck as we take a sharp turn. "I make your life interesting, A-Sayf!" We jump from the rooftops to the ground below, Kadar gasping and clinging even tighter. I pat his arms, physically telling him to loosen his hold.

We dive quickly into a large pile of hay, hearing the guards run past. I wait until I'm sure they're gone, letting out a long breath that I didn't realize I was holding. Kadar sneezes softly. "I'm going to check if they're gone…" My brother scrambles out of the hay stack, his boots crunching lightly on the ground.

Altair laughs lightly under me, and I give him a heated glare. "Why did you persuade Kadar into stealing those pomegranates?" He gives me a crooked grin, and I notice how close our faces are, and what our position is.

"Because I gave all my money to him to buy your journal."

I blink, flushing brightly; my body doesn't want to respond to the frantic messages my brain are giving it. My mouth goes dry and I fist my hands beside the other novice's head. "A-about that…um, thank-" My sentence is cut short by lips being pressed lightly against my own.

Golden eyes stare up at me, until we break away. I stutter, jumping from my previous position. I scrub my lips with the back of my hand, my brain slowly rebooting. Altair sits up, the hay clinging to his light brown hair and clothes; he looks embarrassed, and a light flush covers his own face.

"WHAT WAS-"

"Brother they're gone." I jump as Kadar lays a hand on my shoulder. My brother blinks, looking from me to Altair; I can almost picture his mind putting the pieces together, so I quickly push him toward our home.

* * *

I sigh lightly, resting my chin on my crossed arms. I look out across the horizon, shifting so my crouched body is more comfortable on the roof. The stars blink above me, pulling my attention from the dark landscape to the sky.

I lay back, grabbing my journal and quill, propping the book against my bent knees. I let my mind wander, and allow my hand to begin sketching.

For a few minutes, the sound of my quill scratching across the surface of the paper fills the quiet night air. I stop my hand, eyes widening as Altair's grinning likeness beams at me from the page. Slamming the journal closed, I huff loudly, falling onto my back. "Why can't I get that bastard out of my head?" I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, groaning lightly.

"Brother?" I take away my hands from my eyes and blink up at Kadar.

He sits silently beside me, and I sit up, noticing that he's clenching his blanket. I wrap an arm around his smaller form, hugging him close. "Did you have another nightmare, Kadar?" He sniffs and nods, burying his face into the crook of my neck.

I sigh, rubbing circles on his back. Kadar pulls away, his blue eyes are misty with tears, and he holds the blanket close. Letting out a shaky sigh, my little brother gives me a watery smile. "I'll be fine…"

He rests his head on my shoulder, relaxing until I think he's gone to sleep. I can hear the muffled laughter of our older brother below, mixed in with the contained moans of silent lovemaking. "…Malik?"

I look down at my little brother, and notice that his eyes are closed. "Yes, Kadar?"

"…can you…please not be so mean to Altair?" I feel my face bloom with a blush, remembering scarred lips on my own. Kadar sighs lightly, his hand pulling the blanket close.

"Why, little brother?"

A loud yawn works it's way out of Kadar's mouth; I stroke the top of his head, the blush on my face not fading anytime soon. "Because I think he," Another yawn breaks the young boy's sentence. "Really likes you…"

* * *

_Short chapter is short_.

_But, more of Kadar being adorable along with Malik's birthday. I couldn't find a date, so I'm pronouncing that TODAY is Malik's birthday, huzzah. As always, please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

"Ngh…b-bastard…" My softly uttered curse is met with light, affectionate nips to my throat. I gasp, my hands clenching at the other's robes as a four-fingered hand works its way into my pants.

I shove at the other novice, a glare narrowing my lids. "Altair, no. Not now."

Altair frowns, his palms flat against the building's wall, making the alley way I was hastily shoved into seem even smaller. He presses his lips to the shell of my ear, biting lightly on the lobe; I hiss softly and shove him away again. "I-I have to see Hassan off," Golden eyes lock with mine, and a light coloured eye brow is risen. "He's leaving for a mission today, remember?"

The other novice sighs loudly, moving back from my flushing body. I right my robes again, smoothing out the rumpled cloth, earning a light chuckle from my rival/whatever-we-are. I glare up at him, only to have Altair give me a small grin. "You primp like a woman, Malik."

I growl and give his stomach a solid punch, pushing around his doubled-over form.

* * *

"And please _please_ watch out for Kadar." Hassan sighs, placing a hand on top of my head.

I laugh, glancing down at our youngest brother, who pouts lightly before tightly hugging the older male. Hassan leans down, hugging the younger boy back, pressing a small kiss on the thirteen-year-old's forehead.

Kadar blushes and wipes at the spot, smiling lightly. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Hassan!" He complains, even though all three of us know he loves the attention.

Hassan turns back to me, tightly hugging me; I notice that I'm as tall as he is, and Kadar is only a few inches shorter than both of us. "Safety and peace, brother." I whisper, feeling the hot burn of tears behind my eyes. I blink, confused and give Hassan a smile when he raises an eyebrow at me.

Giving us both a last light peck, Hassan turns toward the gate, throwing his grey hood over his head. Azim waits for him at the large wooden opening; he lifts a hand toward us as they straddle their horses.

Kadar sighs softly beside me, and we turn to walk back to the large fortress where our training awaits. "Brother, I have a bad feeling about this…" The younger whispers, his smaller hand finding mine, almost like the first time he showed me around Masyaf.

I gulp, but give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure it's nothing, Kadar…" I don't want to tell him that I have the same feelings.

* * *

A few months later, I sit by myself in the master's extensive library. I run my finger over the crisp pages, teeth working my bottom lip as I translated the words from French to Arabic.

Something tickles my cheek, but I bat it away, annoyed; the tickling persists, so I turn mouth open to snap at the person. I snort softly, turning back to the documents. "Of course it would be you."

Altair sits beside me, turning the quill around in his nimble fingers. He rests his chin on his hand, looking down at the papers strewn about the table top. "You don't seem too surprised."

I dip my quill tip into the inkwell, scratching out a short sentence. "Only _you_ would be foolish enough to annoy me while I'm _working_." I flicker my eyes toward him, noticing his bored expression. "Something that you _should_ be doing."

Altair hums, leaning back in the wooden chair, cracking his knuckles on the table-top. He looks up at the high-vaulted ceiling, then back to me. "I don't see why we need to read century old documents to kill a man."

I snort and poke his nose with the feathered end of my quill. "You're just lazy."

Altair opens his mouth to retort, but the sound of shouting breaks both of our attention; we move to peer around the thick bookcases, watching as a bloodied man runs into the library.

My brows furrow, mouth opening lightly as I try think if I've seen this man before.

The man doubles over, gulping down air while Al Mualim briskly moves toward him. The assassin pulls down his hood, and I bite back a gasp of surprise when Azim's stricken face meets my gaze.

Al Mualim's face looks grim; he clasps his hands behind his back, looking down his nose at the bloodied man. "…was the mission successful?"

Azim winces lightly, reaching into the folds of his robe to produce a red stained feather. "We…we were attacked on the trip back…" I notice that he's holding his side, the crimson leaking through his fingers. "We fought them off as best as we could, but…"

My eyes snap up to the older man's face as he licks his lips; my heart pounds heavily inside my chest, and I feel my pulse in my ears. "Hassan didn't make it."

I stare as the master sighs softly, a hand going up to stroke his graying beard. "That is…unfortunate…"

My back hits Altair, and I turn to him, not realizing that tears are running down my face. His expression is that of shock, but he thins his mouth when he looks down at me. "I-I have t-to leave…" I gulp down a sob, pushing away from the other novice, and run out of the library.

Kadar sobs loudly, clutching my robes tightly in his small hands. His tears soak through the rough fabric, and his frame shakes. I hug him, swallowing my own tears, trying to be strong for him; I will mourn in private.

We sit in the middle of the sitting room, the dying light of day casting long shadows over our huddled forms.

Kadar pulls back, wiping snot from his nose with the back of his hand. His blue eyes are blood-shot, and his mouth is red from him biting down to stifle his sobs. "W-will…Azim b-be okay?"

I let a soft sigh roll from my lips, swallowing down the bubble of tears that threaten to break down my wall of 'strength'. "He's in the hospital ward."

Kadar stands shakily, sniffing loudly and clenching his hands into fists. "I-I'm going to see if he's okay." I open my mouth to protest, but the younger boy runs out before I can say anything.

I don't move for a few minutes; I stare at nothing, until my hands begin to shake in my lap. A loud wail rips from my throat, and I double over, clenching my hair as fat tears spill from my eyes.

I shudder, hiccupping while I stand. My body sways lightly, but I right myself, stepping out of the house.

My tears fall silently while I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from sobbing. I allow my legs to take me wherever, until I find myself standing outside of Altair's door.

I stare blankly at the wood, my head weighing the possibilities of asking for his company. I swallow thickly, knowing that I don't want to be alone.

My knuckles rap on the door, and after waiting for a few moments, I'm afraid he didn't hear it. I lift my hand to try again, but the door opens to reveal the other novice, obviously getting ready for bed.

"Malik?" Altair seems surprised; he blinks, lifting a hand to touch the still moist tear tracks running down my face.

"Please…" I'm shocked at how hoarse my voice sounds. "Can I…can I come in?"

Altair moves out of the way so I can slide between him and the door. I take in my surroundings, noting how sparsely decorated the room is.

A bed sits in the corner, a chest of (what I assume to be) clothes is shoved against the opposite wall. Weapons lay on top of the chest, and I glance toward the other boy's hand and see that his hidden blade is removed.

I sit on the bed, my arms tightly folded around me. Altair stands awkwardly by the door, staring down at me with a small frown on his lips. I scoff lightly, flickering my eyes away from his gaze.

"Malik," Altair leans in front of me, resting his hands on either side of my lap. "Why are you here? Where's Kadar?" A finger swipes away a tear.

I remain silent, my mouth pursed and tears rolling down my face. Altair sighs, leaning up to kiss both of my cheeks. I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder. I hear him grunt at the force of my hold, but soon I feel hands flatten against my back.

"Altair," I shiver against his body, liking the warmth given to me. "Please, brother, I don't…I don't want to be alone."

I pull back, staring at the other boy's confused face, before crushing our lips together, my fingers weaving through his short hair. Altair pulls back, holding me by my shoulders; he searches my watery eyes, a light flush covering his cheeks.

I growl lightly, my hands cupping his face, pulling his lips back onto mine. My tongue runs across his scarred mouth, begging for him to return the kiss; with a soft sigh, he finally does, moulding our lips together.

Our tongues wrap around each other, dancing inside one another's mouth. A small sob works its way from my body, and I realize I'm still crying. Altair pulls away from my mouth to plant small kisses on the tear tracks. He flicks his tongue over the skin to lick them away, and I blush, holding him tighter to me.

My robes are clumsily pushed off, the other novice barely running his lips against the skin of my neck. I squirm, feeling my arousal press against my loose-fitting pants.

Altair stops at the lip of my pants, his eyes flickering up to mine in embarrassment. He bites the corner of his mouth, and I gulp lightly. "Go on." I breathe, watching as his fingers delicately curl over the fabric.

Altair lets out an unsteady breath, looking anywhere but my exposed form beneath him. I wiggle lightly, embarrassed and awkward.

He glances up at me before leaning down, kissing my slightly protruding hip bones. His fingers dance over my thighs, skittering around the base of my shaft, causing my breath to hitch.

Altair sighs softly against my skin, moving his head to give an experimental kiss to the head of my sex. I moan loudly, eyes going wide while my hips buck involuntarily; I bite down on my knuckles, hearing Altair chuckle lowly at my embarrassment. "Sh-shut up." I whisper, toes curling as he places another butterfly kiss on the head.

I groan, rolling my hips as he takes my shaft into his mouth. I clench at the wool blanket underneath me, sighing and groaning as my sex is clumsily sucked. I feel the pleasure curl in my gut, causing me to gasp and buck my hips.

"A-Altair…" I gasp, coming inside is mouth, lazily thrusting until I let a loud sigh fall from my mouth.

Altair pulls his mouth from my sex with a soft pop, licking away the cum at the corner of his lips. I stare up at him, my breathing slowing down; Altair leans over me, planting a small kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight, Malik."

His arms wrap around my waist, pulling my naked body close to his still aroused form. "What…what about you?" My eyes flutter closed when Altair buries his nose into the crook of my neck.

"_Goodnight_, Malik."

* * *

_Ffffff, I dunno how I feel about this one…_

_I FUCKING KILLED OF HASSAN (crazy laughter) _

_**Also, THANK YOU to all the reviews! I love you guys!**_


	6. Chapter 6

My eyes snap open, and with a groan, I sit up holding my head. I blearily gaze about the unfimilar room, my mind muddled with fatigue until a slew of images fly back at me. I feel my throat close up; turning my head, a small disappointed sound leaves my mouth when I gaze down at the empty space beside me.

* * *

I return to the squat house only to find that our things are being removed by other assassins. Kadar stands by the door, arms wrapped tight around his blanket, and expression worried. He looks up and runs to me, burying his face into the crook of my neck. "Where were you?" His voice is muffled, and his shoulders sag.

I bite my lip and wrap an arm around him, glancing up at the other assassins. Petting his dark hair, I place my chin on top of his head. "I'll...tell you later. What's happening?" Kadar pulls back, his brows furrowed as he glances at the movers.

"The Master is moving us to the fortress because-"

"-how's Azim?" Kadar sighs shakily and runs a hand through his hair; a small, barely noticeable smile quirks the edges of his lips.

"He'll be fine." I let go of the breath caught in my throat, nodding to myself; I turn and cross my arms over my chest. Kadar stands next to me, observing the assassins clearing our things from the house. "I have your journal."

I snap my gaze to my little brother, feeling a flush come to my face. The light of mischief glints in Kadar's eyes again, and I'm secretly grateful even as a sputtered reprimand tumbles out of my mouth. My younger brother giggles softly, blinking away the few tears that try to fall over his lids; he takes the leather bound book out from under his blanket and offers it to me with a small smile. "I-I looked through your drawings."

I snatch the book away, feeling my face burn brighter, knowing there were some sketches I didn't want Kadar to see. _Ever_. "Please don't do that again." I mumble, hugging my journal close to my body.

Kadar looks down at his feet, pushing a rock over with the toe of his boot. "I'm sorry, brother, I just-just wanted to see him again." I swallow thickly, but take Kadar's hand in my own. I give the smaller appendage a gentle squeeze.

* * *

"I'm going to leave the order." Azim lets out a long sigh, dark eyes glancing from between Kadar and I before they drop to his bandage covered hands.

My fingers clench around the bed's blanket, and my eyebrows furrow. Kadar bites his lip and glances at me before opening his mouth. "But...why, Azim?"

The once-assassin pauses, lightly touching the thick gauze winding around his stomach. "I've lost too many people I love to this life." I let go of the blanket and hug my arms around me; I look away from the older man, swallowing down a snippy retort. This man has lost someone he loved, just like us. Azim sucks in a breath; his hands tighten around each other, and he looks at my brother and I fully. "I'm also...going to ask the Master if I can adopt both of you."

Kadar gapes, his blue eyes wide while my mouth drops. "W-what?"

Azim looks sheepish, resting his hands on his lap palms up. "I don't have a house, so you'd still be living in the fortress...but you two would have the room connecting to my own." The older man looks up, gaze pleading. All I can see is a man who's lost everything, and this causes my heart to throb painfully in my chest. "I don't have any children of my own...and I would like for you to be my sons..."

Kadar is the first of us to act; he launches himself at the man, tightly hugging Azim while tears run down his face. His sobbing muffles any answer he might have given, so Azim looks to me for help.

I clear my throat of any tears and shift from one foot to the other. I clasp my hands behind my back and give a curt nod toward the older man, "Th-thank you."

* * *

_Filler chapter -grumble- BUT the good stuff is to come in the next one. :D_

ALSO_ I was very honoured to recieve FAN ART, and I would love for you guys to check it out! http:/ ilikebirdies . deviantar t. com /art/ Will-you-miss-me- 170110014 just take out the spaces!_


	7. Chapter 7

I groan softly, burying my face deeper into my pillow. A small sigh of annoyance comes from the person above me, and I feel another sharp prod in my side, causing me to turn over on my back. I open my blurry eyes, glaring blindly at the figure who _dared_ to disturb my slumber. "_What_?" I snap, sitting up on the straw mat, groping out in the darkness to pull the smaller body close to my own.

Kadar punches me lightly on the shoulder, and as my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I can see a small frown resting on his mouth. "Finally you're awake!" His frown doesn't remain long on his mouth, and he smiles at me. "It took me _hours_-"

"Brother, tell me _why _you woke me up, or I will hurt you." The younger boy sighs and sits back on the mat. He crosses his lanky legs and rests his hands in his lap, staring at me with wide blue eyes. I frown and run a hand through my bed-messed hair; a loud yawn works its way from my mouth, and my curiosity prods my tired mind until I ask. "Really, what is it?"

Kadar giggles and pulls a short scroll from the sleeve of his sleeping shirt. He hands me the paper, jumping off the bed to light a candle so I can read the message; looking over his shoulder while quickly bringing me a light, Kadar has an expression I haven't seen since Hassan's funeral. Excitement.

He plops next to me on the mat, careful not to drip wax on my blankets, watching with bated as I unroll the parchment. I quickly read the message, sighing while crumpling the paper in my hands. Kadar looks at me, teeth worrying his bottom lip while I stand, pulling on my assassin robes. "What did it say? A-are you going on a mission, brother?" I catch the underlying tone of worry in my younger brother's voice, but I turn and give him a large grin.

"I'll be back before you know it."

Kadar's fingers pick at the blanket, and his blue eyes are down turned. I pause at the doorway before turning and wrapping my arms tightly around the fourteen year-old; Kadar loosely wraps his arms around my waist before pulling back to give me a watery smile. "When you get back, tell me all about it!"

* * *

My footsteps echo off of the stone floor; the dark shadows still coating the corners of the fortress' winding hallways cause my nerves to jump, and my heart to pound loudly in my ears. I fiddle with the edge of my robe, eyes falling to my boot-covered feet. _What does the Master want? _I think perhaps this is just a short mission to Damascus; perhaps all I have to do is gather information for the Dai...

"...Malik, what are you doing here?" My head snaps up at the softly phrased question; a light flush overtakes my face when my eyes lock with Altair's. We are standing outside of the grand library; Altair's hand his posed above the knob of one of the large doors, but he shifts awkwardly, letting his arm flop back to his side.

A frown drags down the corners of my mouth, and I feel the embarrassed flush turn to one of anger. We hadn't talked since _that_ night, and I still haven't forgotten that he had left me _alone_ either. "I should ask you the same." I murmur, shoving past him to reach for the door.

Altair scowls and pulls a paper identical to the one Kadar had given to me. "_I_ was asked for." I give him a sidelong glare before rolling my eyes, pushing open the door to walk into the library.

Al Mualim stands hunched over his desk; a gnarled hand combs through his gray and black beard while the dark hood covering his head casts a shadow over the older man's face. "Come in, come in." Altair roughly shoves past me, and I mentally curse his larger frame in my head. A pair of mismatched eyes lift from whatever lays on the desk, locking on me. "_Both_ of you." I walk quickly past the _annoyance_, waiting patiently while Altair fidgeted.

Older scarred hands take up a weather beaten parchment, and it is then that I notice the foreign looking eagle sleeping behind the ornately carved lattice birdcage. "You have completed nearly all of your trials to becoming Master Assassins; both of you have shown _great_ potential." He looks pointedly at Altair, and I can't help but notice the smug smirk _gracing _my 'brother's' mouth.

The man swiftly rolls up the parchment, stuffing it into a leather pouch before holding it out for one of us to take. I snatch it up, giving the other assassin a quick smirk. "The details for this trial are inside; look over them _carefully_ while you travel to your destination. When you return, you will be given the title of Master Assassin."

* * *

Our ride is silent, the only sound being the heavy footsteps of the horses falling on the dewy covered road. My eyes scan over the parchment, memorizing and filing away details for later. Altair sighs beside me; I can feel his eyes tracing the side of my face, the gaze burning into my skin. I look up and turn, an irritated frown covering my face. "What is it, Altair?" His staring continues, which only causes a blush to heat the tips of my ears. I scoff and turn away from the other male, burying my mind in details of our trial.

* * *

The small city of Adana meets our fatigued eyes like a beacon promising rest. I let out a long sigh, thanking Allah that _finally_ I could be away from the annoyance known as Altair for a few moments, at least. I chance a look in his direction and grunt softly when his eyes meet mine. _The staring is starting to disturb me..._

People mill about the bazaar outside of the city gates; they shove things upwards at us, speaking quickly in Greek, Turkish and Arabic. Altair looks confused by the Turkish and Greek, shaking his head in their direction before riding a bit more quickly to the stables. People scoff at his rude behaviour, turning to me to offer 'fine' food and fabrics from the far East; I mutter no in their tongue, keeping my eyes trained on my companion because Allah _knows_ that man is a handful.

We give our horses away, blending easily with the crowds filing past the city guards. I loosely grab Altair's wrist, pulling him aside and out of the mass of people; we duck into a small alley, and I can't help but notice how close we are. I mentally scowl, shoving down _those _sorts of thoughts, and look up, searching for a view point that may help us find Adana's Bureau.

"There." I'm shoved away, blinking while white robes obscure my vision for a few moments. "Come on, I'd like to get some rest." I scowl upwards at the fleeting figure of Altair disappearing over the edge of the building.

"Moron." I murmur, sucking in a deep breath and following.

* * *

Emre is...a strange man to say the least.

Clay covers his hands in specks, and glaze mars the once inky black fabric of his Dai robes. Dark hair stands on all ends, and scars zigzag over one side of his face; the man is constantly smiling, and I notice that he only has a few teeth remaining. He smells of hashish, though his eyes are clear. Novices and Master Assassins file from his bureau, and the man greets them as if they were long-lost relatives coming for a visit, nothing like the rather cold Dai of Jerusalem...

Emre sits beside Altair and I, chatting pleasantly behind his food, and puffing away on a long pipe. "I'm very glad that Al Mualim received my letter in such short notice!" He laughs, pale gray smoke tumbling from his mouth in curls. "But Hülya is such a wonderful bird; she's very reliable-" Altair groans softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. I laugh to myself, knowing that he can't stand incessant babbling.

I turn to Emre, folding my hands in my lap. "Dai, perhaps you should show us our room? We've been traveling and would like some rest." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Altair give me a look of appreciation.

The Turkish Dai takes another hit of his pipe, letting go of the smoke with a long, content sigh. He stands, dusting away any ash from his robes and gestures for us to follow. He leads us to a small room connecting to his own chambers; plush carpets and pillows litter the floor, while greenery gives the room a slight earthy scent. Emre smiles largely, pipe wiggling between his teeth as he talks. "Sleep well, little brothers. Tomorrow we'll go over your mission." The thin cover over the doorway falls closed, leaving Altair and I alone.

The male sinks to the floor, sighing loudly while hugging a pillow close to his chest. I sit far away from him, removing my sweat-sticky robes, my top lip curling at the sour smell of the road clinging to my skin. I lay on my side, facing away from Altair, hugging my own pillow to me; my mind drifts from the world of wake and sleep before I feel someone curl closer to my body. My shoulders tense, and my fingers twitch while I wonder if this person is a threat or not.

I feel something lightly touch the shoulder that still houses my brand; my breath is caught in my throat as fingers trace around the crocus shaped scar. I stare at the wall across from me, feeling the hand lift away, and the body move quickly from my own.

For a few moments, I wait for anymore movement before turning quickly around.

Altair is curled on his side, back meeting my accusing gaze. His breath is even and deep, but I bite on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood; my brows furrow while a flush of shame paints over my cheeks. _He knows_.

* * *

_And thus this is the reason why I wanted to write this fic. _

_Adana is a city in Turkey not that far away from Syria BUT...the travel there would still be long. This (as you guys could probably tell) is the last trial in which Malik and Altair have to complete in order to become Master Assassins. They're like seventeen._

_Emre is a Turkish name that means 'Friend or Big Brother'; he's kind of a spaz. _

_ALSO, this is what I imagine Malik's brand to look like: http: / / www . srgc . org . uk /discus/messages/ 5012/40765 . jpg_


	8. Chapter 8

I groan softly as I walk out into the bureau's main room. I didn't sleep well last night, and it's apparent in my gait as I walk toward my mission partner and the Dai to break my fast.

I sluggishly pick up a handful of grapes and a slice of khubuz; lifting the bread to my mouth, my eyes flicker over to Altair, noticing that he's avoiding my gaze as best as he can. Emre greets me with a smile and pushes more food into my hands; he winks and says that we'll both be needing our strength today. I nod, stuffing my mouth full of feta and grapes, gulping down the food as quickly as I can in order to get this mission over with.

Emre stands, wiping his hands on his robes and walks over to the bureau's counter, rummaging behind it until he lets out a small 'ah!' He turns back to us, holding lavish robes in his stained hands. Glancing from Altair to myself, Emre whistles through his remaining teeth.

My mind comes to a sudden halt as he fully explains the mssion and exactly _what_we must do. He takes a lengthy drag on his pipe and lets the smoke tumble from his lips. Altair stares blankly at the Dai, scarred mouth thinning in annoyance.

I lift a cup of wine to my mouth, sipping at the liquid to try and calm my jumping nerves. I remember my nightmares from the night previous and take a too large gulp of wine, nearly choking myself on the ruby liquid. I cough lightly, mentally sighing in thanks that neither of the two other assassin's noticed my distress.

Emre claps his hands, giving us a large grin and cocking his head to the side like a cat. "Do you understand little brothers?" Altair makes a small noise in the back of his throat which the Turkish Dai takes as an affirmative. His glassy eyes swivel to me, watching as I shift uncomfortably on the plush cushions. Emre lifts a brow, lips working around his pipe. "Something wrong?"

I look down at my hands, fingers tightening on my lap. Damn Al Mualim, he knew _exactly_ what he was getting me into! "Nothing at all." My voice sounds horse, so I take another large swig of wine.

Emre nods to himself and swiftly stands. He motions for us to follow, grinning over his shoulder. "Come then, we must get your disguises."

* * *

My hand goes up to claw at the leather collar clamped around my neck. My eyes are lined by kohl and the shear wrap around my nether regions causes me to shift awkwardly; this only causes the bangles on my arms to tingle merrily. I glare down at my feet, hating the thin leather sandals strapped to them; they won't help with running, the bottoms are too soft to even withstand walking to the market.

Altair looks uncomfortable in his crimson and gold robes. He glares lightly at the turban resting in his hands, and shoves the wrap of fabric over his light brown hair with a grimace. I roll my eyes at his childishness and watch as Emre walks back behind the counter, resting his elbows on the wood ruined by knives and boots.

Emre turns his gaze from my companion to me; The Turkish Dai taps one finger against his chin and peers at me more intensely. His hand rummages around in his robes until he plucks a small packet out of them; he throws it to me and I catch it, giving him a small suprised glare. "Your objective is to slip the drugs into your target's wine and lure him from the other guests." He gives a pointed glance toward Altair. "This is so _you_can complete the mission." One clay and glaze speckled hand shoots under the bureau's desk, and he lifts out a pristine white feather. Altair takes it, tucking it into the small plume of multi-coloured feathers decorating his turban. "You know what you must do little brothers." We nod once and he scratches a scarred cheek. "Excellent! A carriage will waiting outside of the city gates to take you to your host's home outside of Adana." Another gap-toothed smile is thrown our way. "Safety and peace, little brothers. Good luck!"

* * *

I sigh, sitting on one of the plush pillows littering the interior of the carriage. "I hope this goes well..." I mutter, once more adjusting the strip of leather winding around my neck.

Altair remains silent, running his fingers over the bracer containing his hidden blade. I watch him for a moment, the silence pushing at my eardrums until I want gasp in pain. My teeth worry the inside of my mouth until gold yes flicker to meet mine. "What's that brand on your back?"

_Ah yes Altair, you are always so eloquent with your words_.

I blanch before turning my face from him; I try to cover myself with my arms, and hold them tightly over my chest. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I feel him move closer, and I almost yelp with rough fingers prod at the old brand. "Really?" He growls, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

I shudder slightly but push him away, a deep scowl on my mouth. "Drop it, Altair." I hiss, glaring at him with all the force of my being.

The other assassin's mouth thins and his eyelids narrow to a piercing glare; thankfully he remains quiet for the rest of our journey.

* * *

Our host is a young man, nearly our age. He is a good looking black haired man standing taller than both Altair and myself. He is dressed in midnight blue robes and offers us both a deep bow of respect, knowing who we are and what we came here to do. Asim leads us into his home, and I fall a step behind our host and my pseudo-master; I eye the marble floor and high-vaulted ceilings. My nose catches on the smell of roses and sandalwood and I look up to see a beautiful young woman of my own age come toward us.

Asim lights up at the sight of the very pregnant woman; he turns to both of us, though addresses only Altair to keep up appearances. "My wife, Alimah." Asim places a hand on her swollen stomach and gives Altair a wide grin. "And our son, Taabish." I lower my gaze to the ground when Alimah's dark eyes fall to rest on me. I study my hastily cleaned feet while Altair gives the expecting couple a warm wish of happiness, and a long life for their son.

I glance up to the noble people; Alimah has turned to her husband and places a hand on his blue shrouded shoulder. "Your guests will be arriving soon." Her delicate hands adjust his robes, small fingers sweep away any wrinkles in the fine silk. Asim nods and leans down to kiss his wife's forehead.

The informer straightens and gestures for us to follow him. "I hope you both will find your accommodations to your liking..." Asim seems to be unsure of himself; his hands constantly fiddle with his large sleeves, and his eyes dart from side to side. Altair hums, his own eyes flickering about the hallway to map out an easy escape rout; I do the same, my own gaze scanning over our dear host to see if his meekness is merely an act.

Asim leads us to a grand room. Pillars gracefully curve upwards into an arch; the almost grecian openings are covered in translucent silver, purple and turquoise tapestries. Plush rugs, carefully stitched and woven criss-cross over the marble floors. A shallow pool filled with eerily white fish is in the middle of the room, and fresh greenery fill my nose with their sweet smell.

The design of this room reminds me of Acheron's fine harem. This remembrance of the man who filled my first few years of life with pain causes a shudder to run through my body; Altair glances over at me, but I shoot a glare back at him and straighten my spine.

Asim fidgets nervously with his robe and asks if we find the room appealing; he's like a small child begging for his father's approval, and I can't help but feel superior to this nobleman who is so humbled in the presence of two budding Master Assassins. Altair gives our host a short nod, asking in a bored tone when the guests will be arriving. Asim blinks and looks down to the ground in order to think. "It is almost three...I asked for them to be here before nightfall." He looks back up at us, a wide smile reminding me of Kadar's exuberance. "They should be arriving in another hour, young Masters." Our host bows lowly and backs out of the room, telling us that a servant will come get us when the other guests start arriving.

Altair checks around the room, posture not relaxing as he searches for any hidden threats. I roll my eyes and sink onto a soft pile of pillows; I've already come to the conclusion that Asim is harmless and meek in the face of danger. My eyes flutter closed, tired from my lack of any decent sleep the night before. I allow a loud yawn to tear past my lips as I settle into a comfortable position to wait until Altair is done with his fruitless searching.

A sharp prod on my forehead causes me to jerk awake. My eyes pop open, and my hand gropes for a blade I know not to be there. Altair snorts, standing before me in his rich red robes; a servant boy, dressed similarly to me, stands timidly in the doorway. "Come, I do not want to wait any longer." I resist the urge to roll my eyes at my companion's impatience, but I stand and stretch languidly, watching the irritation bloom on Altair's face. This time, I do roll my eyes, dropping my arms to my sides and give my 'master' a pleasant smile. He growls lowly and turns, robes billowing out around his feet as he stalks from the room and down the hall.

The servant boy walks beside me, glancing up at me with curious dark eyes. "I can't believe you act that way toward your master..." I do not glace down at the shorter boy, but I do offer a slight curling of my lip. The boy looks down at our sandal clad feet, the bangles around his wrists tingling softly as he fidgets with his hands. "My old master would have never let me get away with such behaviour..."

"It was the same with my own old master." I blink as I realise that I had let those words tumble gracelessly out of my mouth. My mind gropes for solid ground, and I quickly follow my foolish statement with a lie. "However, his nephew is kind enough."

The boy flickers his gaze shyly to Altair who stands waiting for us to catch up to him. A frown drags down the scarred side of his mouth, and he fixes an impatient glare on me. "He seems very...coarse."

I snort softly as we walk closer to my 'master'. "He's harmless."

* * *

Our target is disgusting; he chews his lamb loudly, showing the dinner party his fat tongue inside his mouth. I'm glad I'm sitting behind Altair so it shields my sickened expression. Balding, pock-marked, skinny as a twig, sun burnt, this makes up our target as he laughs while holding up a cup for more wine. I stand tiredly, grabbing the stone jug holding the alcohol and gracefully move over to him. I notice he eyes my swaying hips, leaning forward while grabbing a large slice of lamb between his fingers.

I pour the wine without an expression on my face; I strive to keep my eyes pointedly fixed on the cup, but apparently the target will be having nothing of that. With his oily hands, the target graps my unoccupied arm and presses my sword roughed fingertips to his greasy mouth. He kisses the digits, holding tightly as I tried to move away. I want to let the stone pitcher I'm holding collide with his head, but I calm my anger, forcing a small 'shy' smile to curl my mouth upward. _Remember the mission. You are a tool to complete the...Allah please give me strength to do this_.

Altair loudly clears his throat and holds up his own cup for me to fill. I sigh in thanks when the brute releases my arm and allows me to go back to my 'master'. "Thank you..." I breathe lowly, filling Altair's cup with the ruby red wine, sitting back down behind him to let myself glare over my companion's shoulder.

* * *

I can't relax at all; the heated room causes small flashbacks to flicker in my mind. I shudder as I remember invading fingers and furious blows...a shriek flys out of my mouth when I feel a four-fingered hand grip my wrist. Altair's brows furrow in confusion, but gold eyes flicker down to my state of undress in mild surprise as I stand from kneeling on the heated tile. "What's wrong?" He murmurs, gaze flickering around the room to check if the other tellaks are listening.

I guide him over to a marble slab-_the goebektas_I correct myself, pushing my companion to sit on the cool stone. Altair quietly waits for my answer, though I know his patience is only held by a thread; I retrieve a small vial of olive oil and lily, popping open the containers in order to let the oil breathe. "It's nothing." We hear the chattering of the other guests filing into the heated room. I glance from behind Altair, and drop my gaze onto our target.

I gulp down my disgust as he spots us and grins lecherously. I quickly snatch the oils up and pour a small amount into my hands, setting my fingertips onto the top of Altair's thigh. My companion blinks and then hisses as I rub at a small knot of muscle in his leg. "Be quiet." I growl, sliding my hands up to the swatch of silk covering the other assassin's more private area. I keep my eyes fixed on the massage, but the hairs on the back of my neck rise when our target sits beside Altair on the marble.

He tries to start a conversation with my normally silent companion, but Altair keeps his gaze fixed on me as I begin to rub the lily oil down his leg. The target also watches my movements, though his gaze is far more probing, moist, thieving. I gulp and gnaw at the inside of my cheek. "...your father must have fine tastes." I feel a hand caress my face, and I resist the urge to shudder; with a weak smile, I flicker my gaze 'shyly' at the target.

"Of course." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Altair incline his head barley a fraction of an inch. Our mark looms above me, his hand running down the length of my throat, pausing over the brand on my shoulder.

"This is familiar..." He murmurs, motioning for me to stand and turn my body so my back faces him. "Where did you say your father got this specimen?" I stiffen, knowing that if this man recognized Acheron's brand, then he may figure his life was for ours.

Altair's eyes flicker toward me in confusion, and I can see the worry seep into his golden eyes. "I...never asked." The target's hand stills its petting, and a smirk slowly makes its way over his mouth.

"I see."

* * *

"He seemed to recognize that mark on your shoulder." I glared into the darkness of the room, pulling on my hidden blade, not changing into my assassin's robes like my _annoying_ companion.

"It was merely a coincidence, now silence." A low growl leaves my mouth when Altair pushes me.

"No. I'm tired of you hiding things from me, _brother_. Tell me why there is a brand on you, why you seem to know how to be a servant so well. _Tell me_." His voice is rumbling in my ear, and I try to swat him away, but a quick movement from the other assassin causes my arm to be lifted above my head.

I grit my teeth, mind juggling with _telling him_ and _not telling him_. What choice would be better suited for me, for our mission? I didn't want something like my past to distract the oaf during the most crucial moments of our mission, however, gold glared down at me, telling me I was not going to get out of this unscathed. "Fine," I growl, "If you must know, before I came to Masayf, I was sold by my mother. I was bought by a man name Acheron who raped me and then made me a tellak. Hassan and Azim eventually rescued me." His hand has gone slack so I rip my arm from his grip. I backed away from him. "Now you know."

Beginning to shove away from him, I groan when Altair grips my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?" He hisses lowly; I almost hear the hurt behind his words, but I choose to ignore it.

"I didn't think it was any of your business."

"None of my business? After all we've done I-"

"'After all we've done'? Ha! You arrogent bastard! _You_ left _me_ alone!"

"I thought that's what you would have wanted!"

I stare at him, and blink. I huff lightly and turn, shoving my way past my companion to begin the actual mission. "I don't have time for this..."

* * *

_I-I am so sorry for such a long wait. Really I am! This took so long, and sat in my computer for months, and when I went to work on it, I didn't have any inspiration. -sigh- But enough of my excuses, please please enjoy! _


End file.
